


She

by sharedwithyou



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a bit of humor and fluff, But Loki Does What He Wantss, F/M, IJUSTCANTLETMYLOVELIESBEHAPPY, Loki Needs a Hug, NOT DEPRESSING BUT STILL SAD, So Loki Doesn't Get a Hug, Sorry Not Sorry, mostly angst, notsomuchangstbutstillangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5287100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharedwithyou/pseuds/sharedwithyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by (but in no means based on) She- Ed Sheeran</p><p>It had been a long night.</p><p>But there had been so much commotion when the Great Hall was humming, and so many formalities to check off the list, and acquaintances to be made, and jokes to suffer and thinly-veiled insults to brush away with a smile and you would be damned if you didn’t get one, good and proper dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She

**Author's Note:**

> I'M NOT REALLY SORRY.
> 
> PLEASE LISTEN TO THE SONG. ED SHEERAN IS AMAZING. I LOVE ALL HIS STUFF. GIVE ME LOVE IS HIS FAVORITE. WHICH IS PROBABLY WHY I HAVEN'T WRITTEN A FIC INSPIRED BY IT. TOO MUCH PRESSURE.
> 
> angstangstangst laugh a little FEEL A LOT
> 
> Loki and I have a complicated relationship. So therefore Lovely and him have very complicated fics together.
> 
> Maybe someday i'll get over it and write proper non-angst lokifics. until then, enjoy this one ;)
> 
> give me some love if you liked!

“Just one more dance.”

 

“If you wish.”

 

The party was dying down; the ladies had powdered their noses to a rosy red, the gentlemen had sweat stains in unmentionable places, and those who had imbibed a little extra were starting to get antsy. Five men had already been taken to the infirmary for ale-head; the rest were being broken up from their drunken-stupor brawls.

 

It had been a long night.

 

But there had been so much commotion when the Great Hall was humming, and so many formalities to check off the list, and acquaintances to be made, and jokes to suffer and thinly-veiled insults to brush away with a smile and you would be damned if you didn’t get one, good and proper dance.

 

“Quite the night, wasn’t it?”

 

“To be sure.” You turned to see his brother with a bar maid under one shoulder and a blushing Countess under the other; and an entirely-too-patient Count seething through his grim smile nearby.

 

“Charming, isn’t he?”

 

“Indeed.” You could see the amusement in his eyes, and let out a gentle smile. He stiffened, so you took a small step back and gave him some extra space. You felt him relax slightly, and knew he appreciated it.

 

You knew Loki didn’t like being too close to anyone.

 

 

“Loki, dear, let’s get goi- Oh, hello (y/n).”

 

“Good evening Lady Sigyn.” She gave you an impersonal nod and turned back to her fiancé. “The Allmother wants you to bid the Armen family off.”

 

“Let me finish this dance first, my dear.”

 

“But it is your third of the night.” Not that she had been keeping count or anything.

 

Loki pursed his lips slightly to let her know she was getting out line, but didn’t mention that she had spilled brandy wine on you during the first, and had a “personal crisis” during the second, leaving you (and him) indisposed during both occasions.

 

“I’ll be there in a moment, Sigyn.”

 

“But the band is getting fatigued,” she offered. You and I both know you couldn’t give a rat’s arse about the musicians, he wanted to say, but simply inclined his chin to let her know he was firm about this decision.

 

“Oh, very well,” she relented, clearly disappointed. “I’ll have to do without you for the moment then.”

 

Yes, you do that Sigyn.

 

“Have a good night Lady Sigyn,” you called over her shoulder, but she was already storming away as fast as her little petticoats would allow.

 

You would have thanked him, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment; he was the God of Lies after all. Truths were inevitable, but should be avoided at all times, or at least whenever possible.

 

 

Sigyn’s observation about the band had been accurate, at the very least. The ballad had practically turned into a requiem at the pace they were playing, but neither of you minded. You weren’t turning into a pumpkin after this piece, but you had no shoe to leave behind, and even if you did they would find another foot to fill it’s place.

 

Did you know that in the original Cinderella, her step-sisters had cut their own feet in an attempt to wear the shoe? For their mother had said it would be better not to have a toe, or a heel, than to lose the chance of a lifetime; to be a princess. And the prince knew it was not them when he removed the shoe and something spilled out.

 

That’s what royalty was, after all.

 

 

 

“Something on your mind?” I wonder what lengths the women would go to become the next Mrs. Laufeyson.

 

“Not really, My Prince.”

 

“You cannot lie to me, (y/n).” Oh, if you only knew. But you offered him a look of amusement instead and he was satisfied.

 

The musicians were trudging along in their funeral march, but they knew better than to end the song at the moment. So you let yourself sink into his touch, without moving a single step towards him.

 

If your nerves were tendrils, they would be reaching out to his.

 

If your feet had minds of their own, they would close the gap between you.

 

If your tongue was split, and gold to his silver, you’d whisper the words that might change everything.

 

If your soul could break through your very skin, they would with a heartbeat to wrap around his and never let go.

 

 

But who would want a monster with medusa limbs, and feet for brains, with a forked tongue and no skin?

 

 

You would not become this beast, for even the handsomest of men or gods. Not the ivory beauty before you.

 

 

And now he was, looking at you quizzically, trying to form a question without words, and a sound without lips, but you had closed your head to his voice long ago.

 

And he had never pressed, never tried to force his way into your brain, and if you felt him closing in now it would affirm every belief you held about you, and him, and the two of you.

 

 

As it were, he didn’t.

 

 

Maybe he knew, but more likely than not it was a wondrous moment that neither of you wanted to break, for even the filthiest of all sinners could find redemption, if only for a moment.

 

The musicians finally tapered off, exhausted from a night of festivities. You could have sworn you saw the Prince of Frost narrow his eyes the tiniest bit, but you were no longer searching for an answer in the subtleties that made him.

 

How can I read you, Loki, if I’m blinded by love?

 

How can I feel for your nuance if your skin is cold, oh, so cold?

 

If your heart is ice, and it could melt, my fire would die long before the first drops could extinguish the flame.

 

And I am not waiting for a man of little words and stunted emotions to break out of the bonds of his personhood, exacerbated by his jealousy and misery.

 

King Odin may have clipped your wings, but it is you who has stopped trying to fly.

 

 

If you had forgotten, I’d remind you.

 

But your façade of proud, unfeeling disinterest that has blocked the remembering right out of your memory.

 

Either that, or you have just given up.

 

And I won’t wait for you.

 

 

“Thank you for the dance, Loki.”

 

“It was my pleasure, (y/n).” And as his hands lingered ever so slightly on your shoulders, you questioned everything you were doing, because for the love of God, you loved this god of Evil.

 

And as you curtsied and backed away, his mind lingered on how you called him by his first name, for the first time on your own accord.

 

 

Down the hall you were met by your bags and his brother.

 

“Hello, (y/n).”

 

“Thor.” You looked around and sighed. “Who told?”

 

“Serena.” The bar maid he had under his shoulder moments ago. It figures. “She was, as the Midguards say, plastered.”

 

“Did you really expect to leave without so much as a goodbye?”

 

“To whom, exactly?” You both laughed and he squeezed your arm affectionately, probably bruising it slightly with his god-like strength. Well, he was a god after all.

 

His face fell slightly, knowing you would be off after this. Your heart dropped as well, but you had already made up your mind.

 

“Would I have told, knowing well her affection for you and her spotty tolerance at best?”

 

“I know.”

 

You were outside now, as he piled your things into the carriage Sif had arranged for, swearing death on anyone who spoke a single word. She was a champion.

 

Gods, you would miss her. You had said goodbye earlier, not wanting to draw attention when it was time to leave.

 

Who were you fooling, you would miss all of them. Even the Allfather and his selfish meddling.

 

Even Sigyn.

 

Well, let’s not go that far.

 

“This is it, then.” Thor leaned forward to mutter some mildly threatening words about your safety to the driver, who was on the brink of death after Sif’s speech from earlier. You hoped there was some sort of witness protection program for him, in case the younger Odinson flew into a fit later.

 

He probably would.

 

It would be entirely within his nature to make an absolute fuss about it after the fact.

 

But while in any other situation he could break a promise without a blink, at least he had honored his betrothal thus far.

 

And should he decide to step up and change his father’s mind, well he would be the bigger man for it.

 

But you were better than a well-kept secret from a decision made out of necessity, or at least tradition, and before he would ask you to be, before he took the chance to fall to the depths within your eyes, you would be gone.

 

 

And as Thor leaned forward to grasp your hand, and you saw in him the desire to embrace you farewell, and the abstination of all things for his brother had not the chance to do the same, you felt the chill seeping into your veins and wondered if this was what the Frost Prince felt like.

 

 

Then you squeezed his hand back and the warmth returned, and the horses were off, and you kept your eyes forward, knowing that your heart would turn back so your face need not, with both a requiem and a dance within your head.

**Author's Note:**

> BOOOHOOOHOOO
> 
> EVEN THOUGH I'M NOT SORRY I'M STILL A LITTLE SORRY
> 
> LEAVE ME SOME LOVE BELOW IF YOU ENJOYED
> 
> random ramblings:  
> I THINK I WILL HAVE THIS THING WHERE I LOVE LOKI BUT FEEL LIKE HE'S TERRIBLE AND NEEDS TO SUFFER/SHOW HIS TERRIBLENESS BEFORE HE CAN BE HAPPY
> 
> this looks short now but it took a long time to write. i hope you liked it.
> 
> quick poll 1: do you think Loki will look for you?
> 
> quick poll 2: would you ever go back?
> 
> less quick poll 3: which part was the saddest?
> 
> If your nerves were tendrils, they would be reaching out to his.- this whole part is supposed to come off as freaky and ugly. i'm not good at macabre (i wish i was!!) so i can't give that to you guys, but i wanted to show that you felt that this love (or attraction) was turning sick and disturbing. maybe because of his nature, or the nature of the situation; up to you. but the point was that desire was becoming something you didn't want to be; and even if he accepted you when you became this twisted lover, and part of you maybe even wanted to as long as you could be with him, you wouldn't let yourself become that; because what he had given you wasn't worth it.
> 
> when i write thor/asguard-centric fics, generally Loki is looking for someone to become a princess/queen, and with all the drama between him and Odin, lovely usually doesn't fit well. it's a theme that comes up quite often when i stop neglecting this universe :P
> 
> the way loki acts with sigyn is supposed to show complete detachment; he doesn't waste words, and doesn't even bother saying easy things like give me one second alone or something like that. he's completely cut-off and polite and emotionally uninvested. like zero percent invested. which just makes things sadder 'cause he comes off as just a quietly regal gentleman when he's really an asshole.  
> i have issues with him.
> 
> no you weren't going to leave without saying goodbye to Thor; you made sure to let the bar maid overhear it so she'd spill when she was with Thor and drunk. i thought this was the best way to get the news to him. a litttle bit funny, a little sad. just like the fic. *sniff*
> 
> abstination is not an actual word. but it's the only way i could find to describe the feeling- for Thor to hold himself back from something that he had every right to do and wanted to do- the embrace and all the words to say goodbye or ask you to stay; because you hadn't given loki the chance, and thor is pretty damn awesome and recognizes this
> 
> well that's all this time guys. you asked for more loki so you got it ;P unfortunately my loki stuff isn't so simple. thanks for reading and i'll see you guys soon.  
> XOXO Bucky (the Mindfucker, not the Winter Soldier)


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